


Castiel Without the Winchesters

by Surveycorpse



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, definitely sad, if you think death is sad, my apologies, not really a relationship fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 00:10:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Surveycorpse/pseuds/Surveycorpse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The title is pretty self-explanatory:</p><p>Cas is forced to think about, and ultimately live in, a world without the Winchesters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Castiel Without the Winchesters

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so, please forgive me for anything that's not correct on here. This is my first work on AO3 so I'm new to all of this and I know the summary isn't great, but ya know. It's a short fic
> 
> So yeah, just a little ficlet about Cas being alone. Nothing sad about that, right?
> 
> I do have a song suggestion for this fic and I'm just going to go ahead and put it here. I think it fits the mood
> 
> River Flows In You by Yiruma (just in case you wanna cry)
> 
> Anyway, please feel free to add any comments or kudos cause, ya know, those are always fun. 
> 
> I do have a tumblr so if you'd like to follow me or ask questions or whatever that would be awesome :) Just follow me at youhadmefromhellodean!

Castiel sat in the Impala alone, two roses held in his clenched fists. It had taken hours of debating back and forth with himself-and a lot of courage-before he finally decided to come. It was the first time since it had all happened that he had bothered to visit. The only reason being that he didn’t know if he could handle seeing them this way. 

The past few months had been hard, to say the least. With his Winchesters out of commission, it was up to him to hunt down and kill every monster that he could, and with absolutely no help. He was alone. It seemed to him now that he would always be alone. In his life, people had come and gone, but the Winchesters were the only constant he had; they were friends that he could always count on, regardless of what they were going through personally. 

He turned his head to look out the side window. It was overcast, absolutely no sun showing through the impenetrable wall of clouds. A few drops of rain trickled down here and there. It was on a day like this that Castiel failed to save the Winchesters. Dean had prayed, everyday and every night, but Castiel was unable to come. He thought himself too busy with the dispute in heaven to listen to Dean. Castiel didn’t think he would ever have to worry about him. Dean and Sam had always been capable of taking care of themselves, but the one time that they truly needed his help, he ignored them. He heard one last plea of a prayer from Dean before he heard nothing at all. Absolutely nothing. He knew he should have worried, but he had more important things to think about; and by important things, he meant himself. This had to be the one time that he thought of himself. 

When he hadn’t heard a prayer from Dean in a few days, he finally managed to get back down to earth. He supposed he was being a little bit narcissistic, like Dean would always pray to him whether he answered or not, but he wanted to know for sure why Dean hadn’t been praying. He found out-only minutes later-why. 

And now here he was, sitting in the Impala, a rose for each Winchester grave held in his shaking hands. He slammed one of his fists into the center of the steering wheel. It made a deafening honking noise that sounded so very out of place in the stillness of the day. Why hadn’t he listened? Dean and Sam were the best friends that he had ever had, and now he no longer even had them. The Winchester boys, that for so long had eluded death, were gone, taken away from him because of his own carelessness. He was alone again. He hadn’t been alone in so long that he had actually forgotten what it felt like, but now that he was, it was breaking him from the inside out. 

Without thinking, he stepped out of the car and made his way over to the side of the road where their ashes were buried. Of course Castiel had to cremate them. It was obviously what they would have wanted. 

He sat down in between both graves. They were simple ones, just a makeshift wooden cross at the head of a pile of dirt so that Castiel would always know where they were, even if he could no longer truly be with them. They had insisted that they be buried next to each other. Even in death, they didn’t want to be separated. 

Castiel set one rose on Sam’s grave and the other on Dean’s. He leaned over Dean’s grave and said seven simple words: I’m sorry I didn’t answer your prayer.

He was on his knees now, his upper body still hovering above where Dean was buried. He was alone. He would always and forever be alone.


End file.
